Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

34. Ronan

Chapter 34

Ronan

Denial plagues the bones; truth sets it free.

M y head tips back, letting the droplets from the water pierce my skin, the cool pebbles taming me but still keeping in that poison that flows through my blood. I’m dreading the moment I have to look at her. Not because she’s repulsive, but the opposite.

My stomach twists, my cock jolting a bit from the memory of her moaning so soft and venomous while she ground on my dick.

Now that I’ve gotten a taste of her, how will I avoid grabbing her and kissing the fuck out of her plump lips? She kisses damn well; our mouths molded together too perfectly, the two missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And that’s something I was not expecting. I wasn’t intending for the connection to heighten to where it made me want to tear off those fucking clothes and make her moan for me again, to make her beg me to taste her.

I lather the soap over my chest and onto my stomach, mentally ignoring the scars.

That’s why I stopped. If she felt the wounds and welts, it’ll only remind her of the pain of losing a brother, the agony of how there was no one to save him. The torture we endured.

I was weak. And useless. A damn abomination of a man.

A young man.

I glared down, the water dripping over like rain, my hair surrounding my eyes. The best thing to do is to keep my distance. Which we have been this entire week; she hasn’t been here, and I know she left. I watched it on my surveillance cameras. If I had the technology to see how far she drove and where she ended up at, I would’ve. I was tempted to ask Bedford to search all the stop light cameras and the ones in the city.

I’m that fucking nuts, and that’s why I need to fall back. But I also don’t want her to not be here. She belongs here, even if she doesn’t see it.

I can look for a room for her, so we don’t have that temptation again. Technically, me. I sure as fuck know she hates me all over again.

Which is good because we have a mission to plan. That should be my focus.

Even though the unworldly twist in my gut tells me otherwise.

I hurry out of the shower and dress. When I step out of the apartment my phone vibrates. I grab it without looking at the incoming contact.

Cruz

Have you thought about helping me?

We need your help.

I’ve been thinking a lot. Of mom and just everything. Just call me. Please.

I let out an exasperated sigh, locking my phone back and heading downstairs. Him bringing up our mother is low. Even for him. He’s never wanted to talk about her so the why the fuck now?

I ball my hands into a fist as I walk past a few students, trying to forget about his bullshit. But some stopped me to badger me about the winter dance that they practically begged me for months ago. It’s a pain in my neck, but I can’t get upset, they want to feel like regular students. A few others question me about a fencing lesson or curriculum, and even complain about a teacher who’s being too hard on them. I only remind them this will help them survive this lifestyle. Once you choose to step foot in this building, you choose to change your way of thinking. We are here to train and give them a new meaning to life, a purpose. The one thing that people search for years to find. I never imagined this would be my future, being the headmaster for an entire organization. But I wouldn’t have wanted anything other than that.

Nevertheless, they are not trapped here. Everyone has the option to stay and go as they please. But almost all the kids who come stay for good, only visiting their families for holidays or weekends. They choose safety, endurance, and emotional security over anything.

After finally getting away from the students, I bust through the door of the facility, everyone working and gathering the new kidnapping cases. My eyes automatically search and land on Anita. As if my mind knew what to do without me thinking of it. My throat constricts, ceasing my breath from flowing to my lungs. The irritation I felt earlier because of Cruz vanishes.

Fuck .

She sits on Bedford’s desk, legs crossed, looking at pictures of what, I assume, is Bedford, his boyfriend, and their dog. My mind is on autopilot as I skim down her full body, soaking in what she wears. And it’s fucking sexy.

She wears black denim jeans with a lace, long-sleeve corset shirt that’s stitched with black roses on it. She fastened a thigh holster to hold her gun and dagger, and she donned ankle-high black boots.

My teeth grind together, the pulse in my balls shriveling. She knew what the fuck she was doing when she wore that. A reason to get me hot and weak at the knees. To send a blatant message on what I’m missing.

That I’ll never have her.

And to end it with it all. That thick, long, luscious hair. I’m tempted to go over there and just inhale it again. She’s my new favorite scent and I need another sniff.

Yes, she’s been gone for a week, and I missed the fuck out of her the entire time. It was miserable not having her here. I even went as far as searching for a pair of her thongs and found a sexy red pair in her draw. I laid down on her bed and jerked off until I came all on all over the pocket where her pussy rests. I put the little surprise back in her draw in case she ever came back.

I walk slowly over, licking the drool that nearly spilled out and also not rushing the distance because I know once I do, things will go back to being tense and the air thicker than cement. She grins slightly, a genuine, beautiful smile watching the photo. She points to the pictures leaning on Bedford. Who looks at it and laughs, tossing his head back. It spreads wider as she places her hand on her chest.

I narrow in, relishing in her presence; because her smile could brighten the darkest room. I let out a breath to get my lungs pumping again.

“So precious.” I hear her say as I’m walking up. Of course, she’s aware of my approach. She looks up and it instantly drops. That’s a punch directly to my stomach. I can’t help the scorching jealousy burning in me.

I want to slam Bedford’s head into the computer.

No, no.

I have to remind myself it wasn’t his fault; it’s my own mistake, my own shit.

He doesn’t even realize he experienced something so rare.

“Anita.”

She raises a brow, her face showing no emotion, no reaction from my presence. That fucking hurts more than a knife to my chest.

“Headman.” She continues staring into me, leaning back, and placing her palms flat on his table. Her gaze fiddled at the surface of the black hole between us. She subjects me to the same cold torture, which crushes my ego even more as if someone ripped it away, threw it to the ground, and shot at it with a machine gun. I glare at her.

Mal and Boone come through the door before I can say something.

Mal yells obnoxiously from the song that I don’t remember the artist. She plays that song every time it’s time for a mission.

Boone walks beside her with a dry and unappealing look; he’s been looking more and more pissed every day. What the hell is going on with him? I look back at Anita. “That woman you worked with. What can you tell me about her?”

Anita crosses a leg over the other, my gaze flicking to the subtle movement; a quick flash of them wrapped around my waist as I held her up against the wall comes to mind. My urge to run my hand up her thigh is nearly uncontrollable, not giving a damn who’s in here with me.

“I worked with a lot of women; you’ll have to be more specific.”

I cross my arms. “Long braids, dark skin.” The eyes that’ll probably melt steel.

She raises a brow with curiosity. “Why do you want to know about Scar?—”

“Who’s our target?” Mal chirps, walking in front of us with a bright smile.

I cut my look at Mal, who’s fingering the papers now on the other side of Bedford’s desk.

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” He shoos her hand away, then fixes the papers back neatly.

Mal shrugs, backing away with her hands up. I continue looking at Anita, who now hops off the desk. I forgot about what I was going to ask her, and I allowed myself to roam down her body again as her hips swayed in her jeans. She stands beside Mal, very aware of my stare burning into her head.

Bedford turns halfway, somewhat facing us, while focusing on the screen. “Victor the Vicious. And yes, as we know, a stupid name. But he lives up to it, unfortunately. After the first kidnapping with Carter, he became thirsty for more. Creating his own drug and sex-trafficking chain. He worked alongside Fred and the rest, specifying the rich young girls and boys. The problem is: We don’t know if Fred told the truth or not about not targeting the kids on that wall.”

My heart thumps wild, the thought of young kids going through something so traumatic. So vile. Infuriates me, I hate I can't do shit to protect every single person from fuckers like them. I didn’t believe Fred for nothing. Anyone would say anything just to keep the pain of their fate at bay for a little longer.

He swipes his hands, moving the screen to the left. “George Bettlleham. 18-year-old kid, mom owns private properties all over Long Island and Manhattan. And his dad as well. Born and bred from a literal goldmine, it appears after reviewing the map.” Bedford swipes again, the map showing up on the screen. “If you see the colored dots on the forehead, it’s an indication of the ranking. The richest to semi-rich. But Victor is our best bet to end it all now.”

I step in, tapping the screen. “Thank you, Bedford. We have surveillance on each person set for being taken. Since we marked George número um , we have been keeping a close eye on him. Expecting the unexpected. Also, to our convenience, he lives in Hollow City. If anything pops up on the radar,” I bring a circle device from my pocket, “this will beep red. The team is on watch as well as the police, so there will be nothing going in or out that’s suspicious.”

I toss the device on the table. “We’ve been watching Victor for years, but never were able to catch up to him, though we were able to stop the majority of his kidnapping. We managed to get a designated point after a little birdie spilled his location.”

“Damn,” Mal sings out. “What’d y’all do to him, Headman?” She snickers evilly.

I flick my gaze to Anita. And at that moment, our eyes meet with instinct. Ear-splitting screams and bone cracking invades my mind and vision. Anita’s arm flying up and slicing down on his limb carves a permanent picture in my mind. Seeing the bond we shared, like two ropes tied in a knot, is something I'll never want to willingly let go of.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve,” Anita speaks softly, then slowly peels her eyes from me to give Mal a smile that doesn’t meet the eyes.

I point back at the screen. “We get to him; we end his shit. Or we can do it the opposite way. Get the potential victims, then go after the leader.”

“If he is the leader,” Anita jumps in, tilting her gaze at the screen. “I can’t imagine one man overseeing something so large. There are at least thirty kids on this map.” She shakes her head as she leans over to zoom out of the map to show the full spectrum. “How would he know each one of these people is rich?”

I gaze at Anita again, pressure invading my stomach as I watch her become invested in the situation.

“That’s not very hard to find out these days,” Bedford says matter-of-factly.

Glancing back at the screen, I cross my arms, determining the information. “Unless. That would mean someone else is giving him the information on the outside.”

“Of course. That would mean he’s in the social scene. That’s the only way he could pull that off,” Mal sneers, eyeing the screen.

“Not surprised there,” Boone clips. In true Boone fashion, he only talks when he wants to.

“And we still don’t know why you’re on it,” Anita adds in. I clench my jaw, letting out a grunt. I purposely didn’t ask Fred about that. That’s not on my agenda either way that will get diffused. No one is going to fuck with me, I can bet my life on that.

“We don’t need to stress ourselves over that.”

Without looking at her, I can see her head cock in my direction in astonishment.

“We focus on the bigger picture. Scope out Victor’s warehouse. Which is located outside of Hollow City.” Picking up the devices on Bedford’s desk. Each GPS handheld trackers. “Chris has already added in the mark on these.” I hand one to Boone, Mal, and Anita, who still gives an irritated look.

I will deal with you soon.

The location is further out from Long Island, about two hours of driving. We could all catch the jet and be there in ten minutes, but what better way to get her in one space with me?

“In case we lose each other, you’ll have our exact point on these, including the location of Victor.” I point out. Mal and Boone prepare for their departure; Anita straightens, walking past me to hitch a ride with them until I extend my hand blocking her path, her breast bumping right into my palm. She glares up at me, fire burning in her dark eyes, the plumpness in her lips pinching, preventing her from lashing out. And that only makes me roused, receiving something from her besides nothing.

“You’re with me.”